Superhero In The Stacks
by lellabeth
Summary: 'He's beautiful, but he doesn't notice me. Nobody does.' Bella's insecurities have forced her to hide away from the world, but her Library Boy changes everything. A birthday fic for Sophiacorgi.
1. Chapter 1

**This is a gift for Sophiacorgi to celebrate her birthday! She's a sweetheart, and I hope to make her smile. Chapters will post daily.**

**Thanks to Astro, Fiya and Geeky for agreeing to help me. These girls are the best.**

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I swallow hard as I walk into the lobby of the library, smoothing down my hair as I stand in front of the interior glass doors. I pull at the hem of my dress, cringing when I brush against the soft flesh of my leg. I suck in my stomach as I see him behind the desk, his messy hair visible even from feet away. I can see the thick black frame of his glasses, the v-neck cut of his white Batman shirt, and I imagine the way the muscle of his bicep shifts when he moves to scan a library card or a book. He's tall - lanky even, his body lean and bordering on thin. He's green-eyed and gorgeous, albeit unconventionally so. His lips are just a little too disproportionate, his nose slightly too crooked to be classically good-looking. He's just the right edge of geeky, and I smile each time I see his superhero shirts.

He's beautiful, but he doesn't notice me. Nobody does. I decide to take the risk I've wanted to take since I first saw him months ago, to talk to him and introduce myself. I straighten my shoulders and step forward, my arm extended to pull open the door.

And then the yellow-orange of the afternoon sun shines bright behind me, and for a moment my body is illuminated against the panes. It only lasts a second, but I know well enough how I would look anyway - the thick thighs, the bulge across my stomach, the round face and chubby arms, and I also know that I'm fooling myself if I think I can do this.

Suddenly the dress I'm wearing doesn't feel pretty or flowy like it did this morning. What once felt form-fitting is now constricting, showy and too try-hard, and I want nothing more than to be at home where I can hide away. I let my hand fall away from the door handle as I turn, my eyes on him until that very last second.

_Tomorrow. I'll try again tomorrow._

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**Thank you for reading! I'd love to know what you thought.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you to my girls, and to everyone who reviewed/followed. I'm so excited to show you all what's to come.**

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I wear my best jeans today, the ones that don't stretch too tight across the hips and are high-waisted enough to conceal my muffin top. I've straightened my hair, hoping to hide the softness of my jaw and doughy shoulders. My white top drapes across rolls of flesh, skimming and covering in a way that takes the hatred I have for my body to a mere dislike.

I walk across campus with determination, my head held high instead of tilted downward as it usually is. I ignore the breeze that flaps around me and plasters my top to my torso, gritting my teeth against the sheer panic that swells inside when I see everyone on the quad staring at me. I take long strides full of a confidence I wish I really had, and I'm at the doors to the library in no time.

I rub my lips together, feeling the slick-stickiness of lipgloss there. I walk inside the glass doors, refusing to let the distorted reflection in them phase me. He's sitting at the desk as usual, an Avengers top stretching across his chest. His hair is uncharacteristically neat, the combination of that and the dusting of hair along his jaw making his bone structure even more prominent. He looks up when I walk toward him, his mouth forming a smile that makes my chest feel warm. His eyes scan my body and I fight the urge to cringe, but if anything his mouth just tilts up even more.

I'm less than six feet away from him when a body slams into mine, my balance ruined. I teeter before I find my feet again, picking my bag up from where it's fallen to the floor. I'm straightening when I hear 'watch it' in a snarky female tone, and my cheeks heat as I prepare to apologize.

Except seconds later my words are stolen when I hear another voice proclaiming that 'it's probably hard not to run into people with an ass that wide'. The words are loud and spiteful, and I curse the tears that they spark. I don't bother looking up, knowing that the boy behind the desk has no doubt witnessed every embarrassing second. Instead I sling my bag over my shoulder and walk in the opposite direction, intent on not letting anyone see me cry.

As laughter follows me out of the library doors, I resolve that my silly fantasy about Library Boy actually being attracted to someone like me has to stop.

_Enough, now. Enough._

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**Thank you so much for reading! Have faith.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you to my girls, and for all the reviews! I'm beyond happy with all your support for this Bella.**

**Regarding a comment that the last chapter was unrealistic: I'm truly glad you've never had to deal with that kind of nastiness, but I can promise you it does happen, whether people are 'gastric band levels' of obese or not.**

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It's a week later that I'm browsing in the grocery store, trying to find some kind of chocolate to ease my PMS. I've been eating better all week, no doubt fuelled by the shame that consumes me whenever I remember the embarrassing library incident. My friend Alice said I should brush the comments off, but that's impossible to do. It's nothing new - high school was filled with similar encounters - but that doesn't make it any less hurtful. Mostly, it feels unfair. I'm not unhealthily overweight or even particularly unfit, and yet I deal with snide looks and hateful comments on a regular basis. Even standing in this aisle, near things I should be able to eat if I want to, I can almost feel the judging stares and thoughts of 'Well, no wonder she's chunky.'

I'm just turning away from the racks of things that will only make my self-esteem problem worse when I feel a tap on my shoulder. I startle, the music blaring from my headphones meaning I had no idea anyone was near me. As I spin around, I'm face to face with thin arms and a t-shirt that I can barely believe. I screw my eyes shut for a split-second, convinced I've been awful in a past life to have this kind of luck.

When I open them again, the ridiculous t-shirt is still in front of me. I follow it up to a sharp collarbone, past an obscenely defined jaw and chapped, smiling lips and onto dark green eyes surrounded by glasses. I let my eyes trail up further, seeing that the messy hair has reached new heights. The burst of sound that fills my ears reminds me that my headphones are still in, and I scramble to remove them as I struggle for something to say.

Because Library Boy is here in front of me and I have the social skills of a rock, the only thing I can think to say is the worst thing possible. It's only compounded by the fact I'm doing a half-shout because my volume-gauging abilities have been ruined by Katy Perry blasting into my ears.

"YOU HAVE MINIONS ON YOUR SHIRT!" I shout, jerking my hand awkwardly toward his chest - except it's still trapped in my headphone wires, and I end up getting tangled and punching him in the stomach. He immediately hunches forward, his head colliding painfully with my own as his glasses smash into somewhere around my eyebrow.

We stand there for a second that feels like a century, his face pressed painfully hard against the side of mine, his stuttered breaths gusting into my neck, making me shiver. Except then I realize that he must be winded, and I wince as I look toward the floor in embarrassment.

Then I see that I'm wearing my fat jeans - the ones that are age-softened and have the elasticity of a parachute - and a top that shows my upper arms and the weird fat pockets under my armpits. And I'm standing in front of rows of chocolate, with hot Library Boy wheezing because I just socked him in the stomach.

Perfect.

Finally Mr. Messy Hair seems to recover (or shows signs of a functioning respiratory system again, at least) and clears his throat, palming the back of his blushing neck and staring at the ground.

His throat-clearing soon turns into a full on cough as he looks down at my basket, and that's when I remember the tampons that were on sale. I'm wondering why I ever thought 4 boxes were necessary when he speaks, and then my mind is floating somewhere far away.

"So, you like Despicable Me? I love it. My mom says I look kind of like one of the minions, y'know with my hair and the glasses? That's why she bought me this shirt. Not that she buys me many clothes, just the ones with superheroes or cartoons on them. I buy all the other stuff. Like underwear. You can't be 21 and have your mom buying your boxers still, y'know? That's a little weird. Every time I wore them I'd be thinking of my mom, and well, that's just not something you want so close to your penis."

I stay quiet while he rambles, trying to keep up with his scattered thoughts. I'm about to agree that your mom definitely isn't who you want to be thinking about there when he changes direction entirely.

"You're buying chocolate, huh? What one's your favorite? I really like mint chocolate, but any is good. Do you like all the flavors? Not that you eat them all or anything. I'm not calling you fat. Not at all. You have a perfect body. I just mean that I know girls like chocolate... er, especially around that time of the month. I couldn't help but notice your hygiene items, so chocolate definitely makes sense."

_Holy shit. Did Hot Library Boy just say I have a perfect body?_

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**Thank you for reading! See you tomorrow.**

**Until then, please check out Rescission by GeekChic12, and My Love, My Sin by sulliedsoles. Wonderful stories by two of the sweetest girls I know. :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hi! Is anyone else as glad as I am that it's finally Friday? Thank you for all your reviews. I wish I could articulate how much they make me smile, and I'm sorry I haven't found time to reply to them all.**

**Thank you to my girls, as always. You give me so much.**

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"Uh, I like chocolate," I tell him, confused and still stuck on the perfect body comment.

"Me too. I like the mint one," he repeats before screwing his eyes shut and shaking his head. "What were you listening to?" he asks, gesturing toward my still-tangled headphones.

"Oh..." I scramble around for a semi-cool band, cursing my love for pop music. "The Smiths," I finally come up with, feeling satisfied when I see Library Boy's eyebrows shoot up. I just hope he doesn't ask me to name the song.

"Really? I didn't know they'd covered Firework," he says, the words slow and so embarrassing. My head snaps up to stare at him, but his face isn't cruel or unfriendly. He's smiling-soft and teasing, his green eyes bright behind his glasses.

I say nothing, instead letting a small smile spread across my own face.

"It's, er... it's nice to see you here."

"Nice to see me here?" I ask, completely lost over what he could mean.

"Well, sure. I haven't seen you in the library since...you know," he says quietly, and _God_, I know.

"Yeah. That was embarrassing," I tell him quietly, and the honesty in those words hurts. It's an understatement and yet still too truthful, as if I'm showing him parts of me I'd prefer stay hidden.

"I don't think you should be embarrassed," he replies, his voice whispery and sweet, and I want for him to continue as much as I want him to stop speaking. "If anything, she's the one who should be embarrassed. You didn't do anything. And that comment her boyfriend made..."

He trails off, though he doesn't need to speak the words anyway. They've played endlessly on a loop in my head—every time I've stood in front of a mirror, every time I've left the house, every time I've put anything other than salad in my shopping basket.

It wasn't as if I didn't think he'd heard them, but having them acknowledged now makes my stomach turn. I've never hated the way I look more. Being fat has cost me my dignity a million times over, but it hasn't felt so humiliating before. I stare at his face, taking in the way he averts his eyes and wipes his hand across that jaw, and suddenly I'm so tired.

"Why did you come and talk to me?" I ask, my voice flat and low.

Library Boy looks taken aback by my tone, his slim legs shifting as he toes the tiled flooring. "Like I said, I haven't seen you in the library," he tells me, and I wish I could believe him.

"You've never seen me in the library, except that one time."

His eyebrows furrow with confusion, his face twisting as he responds. "I've seen you there before that."

"No, you haven't seen me. Nobody sees me. I'm nothing to anyone, except for the punchline of some joke. So again, why did you talk to me?"

My words are mean and made nastier by the upset that I'm turning into anger. His face is so understanding that it makes my chest seize, and I ache at the thought that he actually can see me, and that he can see so much.

"I wanted to ask you out," he says finally, the words tentative and nervous. Except I can't see anything but my perception of my shortcomings, and I jump to the only conclusion that seems possible.

"Is this a joke?" I ask, so silently I'm surprised he hears. He clearly does though, given that he recoils from me a second after I speak. "Are you doing this to be fun-"

"No! It's not a joke. Why would you say that?" he interrupts, the hurt coating his words making me feel small for once. I stare at him, seeing nothing but honesty on his face, but as much as I want to believe him, I can't. Even contorted, his face is beautiful, and I remember that I've met boys who seemed nice before. I remember false dates and words so pretty I didn't realize they were lies until it was too late.

"Look, I know guys like you don't want girls like me. I accept that. But please, don't mess with me. I have feelings," I say, ignoring the tears that mangle the words. "This is cruel."

I walk away just as the first tear slips past my eyelid. It feels as if I'm crumbling, leaving pieces of myself scattered over the aisle as I move forward. I ignore the part of me that argues that all my steps away from this boy are actually backward ones.

_You almost believed him, didn't you? You almost forgot yourself. Stupid, stupid girl._

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**Thank you for reading. I'll go into hiding now! **

**Just remember Bella has a lot going on in her mind which won't disappear overnight before you judge her actions too harshly. **

**I promise tomorrow's update is one you'll like. In the meantime, I posted my Dirty Talkin' Edward entry, Tequila Brave, on my profile. There's also a link to the collab account between GeekChic12 and I which has our joint DTE entry posted to it. I'd be grateful if you checked out either or both.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Thank you to my girls, as always.**

**I'm beyond pleased that the last chapter received so many sweet reviews. It sounds trite, but I feel as if many of you really get Bella, and that makes me so happy.**

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Somehow I see Library Boy more than ever in the following weeks, even outside the library a few times. At first he gives this soft, sad smile, but as the days pass his mouth seems to curve less and less, until he only looks at me with a flat expression. Someday soon, he'll probably stop looking at me altogether.

I bump into him unexpectedly one day while looking for a textbook. He's putting returned books back on their shelves, his tight t-shirt showing the muscles in his back every time he stretches. He sighs as he finishes with the section, beginning to push the cart full of books in my direction. I can tell the minute he spots me, because his body goes rigid, and his lips press together in the way I hate. I go to turn away, to run and hide as always, but then I spot the shake of Edward's head as I tilt my body to leave. He doesn't speak, just stares, and I'm so torn. I'm stuck between thinking he was lying or thinking he was being honest about being attracted to me, and I don't know which scares me more.

I root my feet to the floor even as anxiety ricochets through my body, and I ignore the urge to take flight. It's time to fight—against these things that hold me back, against the nasty words whispering in my mind every minute of every day. I scan Edward's body, just to break the stare-off we seem to have going on, and my stomach unclenches when I realize he's wearing his Minion shirt.

"Hi," I say quietly, stepping closer so he can hear me.

"Hey," he replies, his cautious tone biting at my resolve.

"How are you?"

"You don't get to do that," he says loudly when I'm five feet or so away. A woman walking past raises her eyebrows, and he blushes, moving closer with his eyes intent on mine. "You don't get to do that," he repeats, more quietly but with no less conviction.

"Do what?" I ask, chewing on my cheek in an effort to stop the tears I feel coming.

"You don't get to just stand here and act like you didn't completely cut me down last time I saw you. Do you have any idea how hard that was for me?" he questions, his voice angry and so hurt-tinged that I can't help but know how much asking me out must have cost him.

"I'm sorry, I…" hate the way I look, think I'm too chubby to be attractive, don't deserve someone like you.

"You took the things you hate and turned them into things I must hate before we'd even spoken," he says, and the thing I hate now is that he's so right. "You assumed things about me that were incorrect, and you turned me down because of it."

"Yes," I say, wondering how one word can be so painful. "I did, but you have to understand that I don't see how you can think I'm beau-"

"You don't get to tell me I don't think you're beautiful," he interrupts in something close to a yell. He screws his eyes shut and palms his face roughly before dropping his arm in something I'm scared is defeat.

The silence between us is awkward, stagnant and suffocating and wrong. He scans the shelves on either side of us, but his eyes keep flickering back to me—to my face, to my chest and legs and shoulders, and for once someone's gaze doesn't feel like a judgment.

"Do you really think I'm beautiful?" I whisper. It feels so childish, so superficial, and yet it also feels like the most important question I've ever asked.

"So beautiful. Even when you don't try, you're still the prettiest thing in any room."

His words are wonderful, even perfect, but there's still a twist in my chest that refuses to let me believe. He knows, though, in that all-seeing way of his I'm discovering.

"I'm not asking you to agree with it. Just accept it." He swallows hard, pink-cheeked and so shy as he stares at the floor briefly before looking at me again. "Because I've read books and poems filled with words of beauty and love, and none come close to describing how I feel when I look at you. I don't know much of anything about you, but I can tell you that I want to know everything. And contrary to what you think, I've always looked. I looked whenever you weren't, hoping that one day you'd finally come over."

I blink as his words sink in—that he's noticed me, that he truly wants to take me out. That he thinks I'm beautiful, and I don't try to blink back the fresh tears that come now.

"I don't know what this pull between us is, but I have a good idea of what it could be if we let it. And that's enough to make me fight for a chance."

His words are brave and so is the hope they inspire within me, my movement toward him feeling reflexive. He starts to shift forward, as though to close the gap between us, but I shake my head. He's given so much, and I'm way overdue on my turn.

"So then," I say, and the sweet smile he gives is enough to make me ignore how my voice shakes. "When are you taking me out?"

_Beautiful. He thinks you're beautiful._

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**Yaaaay! Who else is smiling now?**

**Thank you for reading!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hi! I hope you're all having a good Sunday.**

**Thank you to my girls, as always.**

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I learn that Library Boy is actually called Edward, and that he knows I'm called Bella because he checked it when I returned a book once. I learn that telling me this makes him blush and stammer, and I love that every new thing I learn about him is my favorite yet. We exchange phone numbers right there in the library when Edward realizes he's meant to still be working. It's funny to think something that feels so groundbreaking has happened, and yet nothing has really changed at all - but it feels like something has changed within me, and I hope it's here to stay.

The text that Edward sends me 10 minutes after I leave the library reinforces that hope, and even though it's just words on the screen, 'Thank you for making my week, lovely girl. I can't wait to take you out.' feels like so much more.

We text often, and I even begin to initiate conversation as the week passes. He tells me so much about himself - that he's a biology major and pizza is akin to a religion for him, but mostly he tells me he's thinking of me.

Those are my favorite messages.

I also learn that he has a drawer full of superhero shirts - the ones his mother buys him - and has his own apartment on the other side of campus to mine. I find out he's from Chicago, though he doesn't go back much. He doesn't offer anything more about his family situation than that. I wonder if there's something he's hiding. I even have the irrational thought that he's telling me he doesn't go back so he won't ever have to introduce me to his parents if we end up dating, but even I know how ridiculous that sounds… I think.

I wake up to texts like 'Good morning, sweet sunshine' and I can't stop the butterflies they let loose, even though part of me is worried we haven't organised a date yet. I debate bringing it up again, but I'm loving what we have too much to risk toppling it.

I end up seeing Edward much sooner than I would have imagined, though.

I'm in my Intro to Psychology class when I feel my phone vibrate, but I'm sitting too close to the front to check it. It vibrates again ten minutes later, and again another five after that. Another ten minutes pass and then it begins to buzz steadily, signaling an incoming call. I hasten to switch it off under the glare of my professor, my teeth sinking into my lower lip when I see it's Edward. He hasn't called me before, and he knew I had this class now. I'm worried, but there's still another thirty minutes until my class is finished and I can call him back.

I don't get the chance to do so. When I exit the room, he's outside, cheeks flushed and body frantic as he paces up and down the hall. He sees me and his blush grows even stronger, his face strangely contrite as he approaches me.

"I am so, so sorry. I just meant it as a joke. I didn't mean to disrespect you at all. I know I've probably ruined things between us now because you think I'm a disgusting pervert who touches himself in the back of movie theatres, but really I just thought it was a funny joke and wanted to share it with you. I didn't mean anything by it. Please don't think I'm a pervert. Even if I was one, it would only be for you."

"Uhh, Edward-"

"God, that sounded bad. I don't want to be a pervert for you. I want to do things that are perverted, but only if you want to do them too. That sounded bad too, didn't it?"

"Edward, I haven't-"

"Oh, I am so embarrassed right now," he says, and the way he wrings his hands reinforces the truth of his words.

I give up on replying, knowing he'll likely only interrupt me again anyway. Instead I take out my phone, ignoring the soft noise of protest that Edward gives when I wake up the screen. I scroll down through his messages, past 'Are you mad? I'm so sorry. PS - sorry for saying shit, too.' and 'Shit, I hope you weren't offended by that.'

Edward is squirming in front of me, his cheeks so red I wonder how hot his face would feel against my palm. I'm just reaching my arm out to touch him when I spot the message that's caused all this fuss.

_'If I were an enzyme, I'd be DNA helicase so I could unzip your genes.'_

I stare wide-eyed and shocked at Edward - geeky, adorable Edward, who's wearing a Spiderman shirt and jeans rolled up too high, showing off his odd socks, and then I pounce. I press my body against him, my arms around his ribs, my sandals pushing into his converse, my nose smashed against his glasses, and my lips so hard on his.

_Well damn. Library Boy must have checked out some books on how to kiss._

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**FINALLY, right? **

**Thank you for reading! See you tomorrow.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Thank you for all the wonderful reviews! I have no hope of replying to them all, but know that I read and cherish each one.**

**Thank you also to my girls. You make this so much better.**

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Edward's lips are chapped and rough against mine, clumsy and stilted by nerves but so perfect because he's kissing me and I'm kissing him, _finally_. His hands land on my ribcage and I try to hold still, my mouth opening in protest when he slides them down to settle on my fleshy hips. Edward uses that as an opportunity to let his tongue gently touch mine, whisper-soft and wanting as he moans quietly, and then I know nothing except how he's making me feel and that I never want it to stop.

It does, of course, when a group of boys walk past, snickering. Edward pulls back, though only enough to press his forehead against mine. His glasses are digging into my nose so hard it hurts, but the look in his eyes makes me want to keep him there forever. He stares at me with something close to awe, and I'm again in disbelief that I do this to him.

I'm not worth much to those around me, but Edward's eyes tells me that to this boy, I'm worth everything.

It feels breezy like the first day of spring, hazy-warm like the first of summer. His arms are so strong as they wrap around me, and I don't know if I've ever smiled as wide as when I bury my face next to the Iron Man logo on his shirt. I hear his heart racing almost as fast as mine, and I wonder if there's something to be said for love at first kiss after all.

"Wow," Edward breathes into my neck. I burrow impossibly closer to him, the butterflies in my stomach going haywire as he hums in pleasure. "You sure can kiss, huh?"

I giggle loudly, all high-pitched and girlier than I ever have. "You're one to talk, Library Boy."

"Library Boy?"

I just shake my head and hide in his shirt again, but he doesn't let me this time. Edward wiggles his fingers either side of my body and I squeal as he tickles me until I squirm. "Yes! Yes, I call you Library Boy."

"Seriously? That's creative, Bella. I'm impressed. Since when?" he asks, a laugh rumbling so hard in his chest that I feel it reverberate in my own.

"Since I first saw you."

"And when was that?"

"A while ago," I tell him. I'm not coy, just awkward - I'm not sure how much of a compliment staring at someone most days for three months is.

"A while ago... a week?" he asks, and long seconds pass before I shake my head.

"A month?"

I shake my head again.

"Months?" he exclaims, disbelief threaded through his tone.

I nod, pushing myself further into his body. I'm not sure whether he's shocked in a good or a bad way, so his arms are a welcome anchor.

"So… it would be fair to say that you would come into the library to see me?"

I nod again, my hands fisting with anxiety.

"All the times you came into the library, the only thing you wanted to check out was me?"

He isn't even finished with his terrible pun before he's laughing, snickering like a schoolgirl as he purses his lips together to hold his chuckles in. His eyes are bright, his cheeks raspberry-flushed and dimpled, and God, this boy.

"You're embarrassing me," I tell him, but my giggles a second later ruin the pretense of being annoyed.

"But you like me anyway?" he asks, and when he looks at me that way, I do. More than anything.

So I tell him.

And then his lips are back on mine, bystanders be damned.

_He's worth the risk. He's worth everything. He makes me feel like I am, too._

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***squeals***

**Thank you for reading!**


	8. Chapter 8

**So, today is sophiacorgi's birthday! She's a sweetheart, and I love her. Because this fic has a life of its own, it's not quite finished yet and posting will continue daily until we're done.**

**Thank you for all the reviews on the last chapter. I love to see how much you all love Edward!**

**Thanks and love to Geeky, Fiya and Astro, as always.**

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I smooth the chiffon of my dress over my stomach, my heart clattering inside my chest as I try to be impartial about how I look. My hair is curly, my makeup subtle but noticeable. My dress clings to my waist, skims my hips and thighs, ending just below the knee. It's pale peach and so pretty, but most important is that I feel genuinely pretty in it. I wonder how much of that is the dress and how much is the way Edward's eyes trace my body whenever I see him.

I glance at the early evening sun, the air uncharacteristically warm and bordering on sticky. I eye my exposed upper arms in the mirror, wincing out of habit when I see how soft they are. I take a cardigan from the dresser, dropping it on my bed when my phone buzzes. I see it's from Edward and fight the panic trying to claw its way through me. I think all sorts of nasty, poisonous things - he's texting to cancel, to tell me this was all a trick, to say he's finally realized he could do much better. My eyes are already brimming with tears as I sit down on the bed, resigned to whatever ugliness I'm about to read.

Except that I underestimate Edward, again.

'_I can't wait to see you in a little while, gorgeous girl. I've been excited to see you dressed up all day_' is what I actually find, and it's a reminder that the way I see myself isn't how he sees me.

Not even close.

I grab my bag, knowing I have to leave now in order to be on time. I eye the cardigan on the bed, but the afterglow of Edward's words still shines too bright for me to dull them with my insecurities.

I ignore my nerves as I walk to the restaurant we agreed to meet at, a secret smile playing on my lips whenever the balmy air swirls around the bare flesh of my shoulders and arms. That smile grows when I spot Edward down the street, running a hand through his hair and straightening his shirt. He's wearing a black button-down that shows off his lean, lightly toned body to perfection, though I can't help but mourn the lack of a superhero shirt. He checks the silver watch on his wrist, and I stare as the muscles in his forearm flex with his movement. Then the arm disappears, and I look up to find it - and by extension, him - frozen in a weird half-wave position.

He stays like that as I walk closer to him, finally dropping his arm when I get within hearing distance. He does this move where he tilts his hips backwards and away from me slightly. It looks like he's trying to hide his lower half, but all that does is draw my attention to it.

Clearly defined behind the zipper of his jeans is the unmistakable shape of his erection. He notices my stare and tries to shield himself. I try to look away to save him some embarrassment, but my eyes seem glued to his crotch. Somewhere in my mind I register that Edward's talking to me, but all my brain can process is…

_Library Boy is really packing._

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**Sooo... see you tomorrow! *giggles* Thanks for reading.**

******I'd love it if those of you who have Twitter would wish sophiacorgi a happy birthday. Her handle is sophiacorgi, and I know she'd be so pleased to hear from you. D**on't forget to say happy birthday if you leave a review, also!


	9. Chapter 9

**Thank you to my girls for making this better.**

**Back to Packingward...**

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"I guess you really do like my body, huh?" I ask, still staring at the curve of his cock behind denim. I'm wondering if the waning sun is casting shadows, or if it really is that big. That thought makes me swallow and lick my lips, and I hear Edward's faint groan a second later.

"Uh, Bella, could you… stop looking at me like that? It's making things hard for me," he says. My eyes flash up to his, only to see his grimace when he realizes the innuendo in his words. I smile and step forward toward him, pressing a kiss to his lips.

"Hi, Edward."

"Hi, sweetheart. I'd tell you that you look good, but I think you can already tell that," he says, using his free hand to palm the back of his flushed neck. His cheeks are predictably pink and stretched wide from the force of his smile.

"Well, a girl always likes to hear the words," I tease, pulling him with me toward the restaurant. His thumb is stroking the inside of my wrist, the brush of the callused pad against my pulse point sending shocks up my arm.

Edward tugs on my hand, stopping my movement. He steps closer to me, uncaring that we're blocking the sidewalk and people are tutting as they walk around us.

"Aren't we going inside?" I ask, my eyebrows furrowing as he grips tighter onto my hand.

"We are," he replies, nodding and beginning that metronome touch on my wrist again.

"So… why are we standing here?" I question, confused.

"Because I made a big oversight that I need to correct," he says, bringing one hand to wrap around the side of my throat. I'm still puzzled, but now I'm also turned on as he steps into my space, so close that the still-hard bulge in his jeans presses into my thigh.

"You look so beautiful tonight, Bella. I can hardly believe I'm on a date with you. I feel like the luckiest man alive right now," he whispers, his words a soft secret meant only for the inches between us. "Being here with you like this is something I've dreamed of."

His voice shakes slightly toward the end, but his expression is strong, earnest and resolute. There are still people walking all around us, grumbling and complaining, but the perfect boy in front of me is all I see. I lean forward and kiss him again, trying to swallow the sweetness in his tone.

We eventually do make it inside the restaurant, Edward's little touches as we're led to our table making me soar. He guides me with one hand on the small of my back, pulls out my chair and kisses my forehead before taking his own seat. His hand immediately snakes across the table to find mine, the already-familiar heat of it sparking a fresh round of butterflies in my stomach.

"What are you having to eat?" he asks as he looks through the menu, fingers entwined with mine.

I'm glad he's looking down so he can't see the panic that stiffens my back, my anxiety about eating in public kicking in full force. I scan the people around us, hating that I feel so self-conscious it affects my food choices.

"They have this Spanish tapas platter to share. Do you want to try that?"

The word 'no' sits on the tip of my tongue and makes my mouth taste like ash, especially when I see that some of the dishes on the platter are deep fried. There's cheese and potato and other things that I know aren't good for me, but there's also Edward's smirk as he says "Maybe I can find us something to share, Lady and the Tramp style" and I want to be that girl for him.

I don't know if I can give him much, but I can give him these three letters that sound like a foreign language.

"Yes."

As his hand squeezes mine, I know I made the right decision.

_Baby steps. Just keep taking these baby steps, and you'll get there._

* * *

**Thank you for reading! See you tomorrow.**

**Until then, here's another reminder you should be reading Rescission by GeekChic12 and My Love, My Sin by sulliedsoles. Both are amazing stories.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Thanks to Geeky, Astro and Fiya. They're like my own little Charlie's Angels, except much better with grammar.**

**Back to the date!**

* * *

After we order, Edward lets his eyes scan my face lazily. He takes his time looking me over, and I feel the heat of his stare like a physical touch. The curve of my neck, the apple of my cheek, the slope of my nose are all targets as he maps my face. It feels like he's trying to memorize how I look, and the thought makes my skin pucker with goosebumps.

"You're so pretty. I can't stop looking at you," he says, though he contradicts his statement by staring down at the tablecloth. He's the strangest mix of bashful and brave when he says things like this, as though the words are out before he's really considered saying them.

I let his words sink in, the reverence of them building up inside me until I feel I could burst. I smile freely, wider than I normally would, showing him how happy he's made me. "Thank you. You look great too, Edward. You always do."

My compliment seems to have the opposite effect than I'd want it to, Edward almost shrinking before my eyes. "I don't know about that," he says, scrunching up his nose and shaking his head like he's deflecting the words from reaching him.

"I know about it," I tell him, tone teasing but filled with sincerity. "I've been looking at you for quite a while now, don't forget, and you've always looked wonderful."

He says nothing, just smiling weakly. I feel queasy at the sight of it.

"I was coming in to the library that day to speak to you," I begin, grateful for the way he wraps his fingers around my own. He knows already which day I'm referring to, can probably see it carved into every shame-filled line of my face. "I decided that my staring at you had gone on long enough. I decided to just go for it, to say something to you, even if it was nothing more than a hello. And then when that guy-"

"That asshole," Edward corrects, his face stony.

"When that asshole said that, it just felt like a sign that I wasn't good enough."

"You were waiting for an excuse to turn back out of those doors from the minute you'd walked in them," Edward replies, and I swallow my automatic indignant response when he holds a finger up. "I like you, Bella. I like you more than I probably should, but you have got to stop second guessing me. How long did it take for you to trust that I wasn't going to cancel this date tonight?"

I sit silent, fidgeting uncomfortably in my chair to try to escape how he has me pinned.

"I'm just a guy. I'm one who's something close to crazy about you, but I'm still just a guy. One of my arms is bigger than the other," he says, and my mind struggles to wrap around how that fits in. He must see my confusion because he brings my hand to his lips and dusts a kiss across my knuckles, his mouth so warm against me.

"I'm trying to say that I'm not perfect, sweetheart. It makes me more happy than I'd like to admit that you think that, but only if it's not hurting you. The moment my positives become things that fuel your opinion of your negatives is when they cease to be of any good to me. Do you see what I'm saying?"

I dip my chin slowly, a half-nod the compromise I offer as I work through his words. "So, stop putting you on a pedestal?"

"Exactly. By all means, keep thinking I'm wonderful, but don't let it become a reason you don't deserve me. That's all I ask."

His words are so freeing that my inhale feels ten times deeper than the ones that have come before, my chest expanding like he's lifted a weight from it.

"Besides, you weren't the only one staring for all those months," he says, his teeth sinking into the corner of his mouth in a way that's entirely adorable.

"Oh, really?"

"You'd drive me crazy, wearing these tops that flowed and hid everything, and I'd imagine peeling back each layer and revealing more of you each time. I wondered just how many you'd let me take off," he tells me, swallowing hard as he says the last words.

"And how many did you guess?" I ask, leaning forward in a way that pushes my cleavage together.

His eyes flick down to the valley between my breasts, his mouth tilting into a smirk that still manages to be shy. "Never as many as I'd like."

"I guess we'll have to see," I say, shrugging my shoulders. His eyes close briefly, and he tightens his grip on my hand before looking back up at me.

"You're bad, but I think I like it."

I giggle as he pretends to narrow his eyes at me, loving that I can be light-hearted with him.

"So, what else did you think about when you'd see me in the library?" I ask, curious to know what he noticed.

"More than I can list. There was something new every day."

"Really?"

"Yep. I kept hoping one of your books would be overdue and you'd have to come to the desk to pay the fine just so I could finally get a chance to talk to you." His eyes begin that same circuit over me again, that smirk more confident than I've seen before. "Then again, you have enough fine of your own."

_One date. It took me one date to know that I could fall in love with Edward Cullen._

* * *

**Are you still squealing? This boy.. *dreamy sigh***

**Thank you for reading!**


	11. Chapter 11

**Hi! Sorry this one is a little late. Thank you for all the reviews on the last chapter, I love reading them. Library Boy is definitely swoon-tastic.**

**Thanks to my girls.**

* * *

The cold air slaps my face when I step outside the restaurant, making me regret not taking the cardigan after all. What seemed like a stand of self-confidence has turned into forgetting how frigid nights in Seattle can be, and I have to scrub my hands across my arms to fight the chill that covers them.

"Oh, here." Edward begins to slowly unbutton his shirt. He slips out of it then holds it out in front of me, gesturing with his hands to indicate he wants to put it on me. I hunch my shoulders, intending for him to drape it over them so I don't have to suffer the humiliation of wrangling into it, but instead he picks up my right arm and holds it out, moving the shirt to slide over it.

My throat is tight with anxiety as the small sleeves move up my arms, imagining it being too tight and me busting out, Hulk style, right here in the street. Thankfully it fits, though not as loosely as I'd like. Edward presses a kiss to the nape of my neck as he lifts my hair out of the collar and over my shoulder. The shirt is as warm as the heat of his lips against my skin, the goosebumps that arise now nothing to do with the cool night breeze.

"Your skin is so soft here."

His mouth is gentle as it traverses the side of my neck, but I feel the touch so fully that I tremble. I turn to face Edward, standing on tiptoe so I can drop kisses on his unshaven chin. He moans from deep within his chest, the vibrations of it traveling through his skin and into my lips. I let my tongue peek out just slightly, nerves making my heart race as I tentatively flick the hard cut of Edward's jawline.

His arms come around me tightly, the unexpected muscles digging into my skin as he squeezes my body. I have a split-second panic, a stupid reflexive moment where I worry that he can feel the rolls of skin that sit below my bra, but it's enough to ruin the mood.

"Your mind went somewhere bad, huh?" Edward asks. He's careful to conceal his disappointment, but I hear it anyway. My insides feel colder than the wind swirling around us.

"I'm sorry," I offer, wishing it was enough.

Wishing _I_ was enough.

"Don't be, sweetheart." He kisses the tip of my nose, bringing one hand to cup the back of my head and guiding it to rest over his heart.

We stand like that for long enough to make me wonder if I'm in heaven, especially when he lets the arm still around me dip lower, past the curve of my waist and onto my lower back. Edward hums appreciatively, his hand curling around my body and cupping my hip. His other hand still rests on the back of my head, his fingers tracing patterns softly on my scalp.

We don't speak, content enough to let our lips move in other ways. He kisses me slow, then fast, soft, then hard, his tongue teasing and sliding, his mouth sucking and pressing until I'm lost. He makes these little noises, grunts that turn into groans when I kiss harder, and I'm so in love with how he makes me feel.

Eventually he shifts backwards, his cheeks almost as pink as his swollen lips. "Hi."

"Hi," I reply, staring at his handsome face. His lips are smiling but his eyes seem to be too, shiny and green and so soft as he looks at me. I wonder what he sees. I wonder if he notices the roundness of my cheeks or the lack of definition of my jaw. I wonder if he pretends those things don't exist, whether he just doesn't see them.

"Edward?"

"Hmm?" he replies, his face so beaming and happy.

"Please don't get mad," I begin, already regretting the words when his eyes seem to dim slightly. "But I have to know. You see me, right?"

His nod is slow, confused but cautious when it finally comes, his arm tightening around me. "Do you just… ignore parts of me?"

"Ignore parts of you?" he asks, his voice sounding puzzled.

I fidget uncomfortably in his embrace, wishing like hell I hadn't bothered to bring this up. "My body," I whisper, feeling like I'm telling my most dirty secret. "Do you ignore the fat parts?"

His sigh is so loud that it makes me flinch, his head turning away so he can stare down the street. "I was stupid to think you'd believe what I said in the restaurant straight off the bat, I guess," he says as he turns back to me. His smile is still there, but now it's so sad that it makes my eyes sting with tears. He's not angry that we're going back over old ground, instead he's hurt, and that's so much worse. "I don't see fat parts or any bad parts. I don't mean that I ignore them, before your mind twists it to mean that. I mean that I don't see them because they aren't there, Bella. I see you. I see a beautiful, sweet girl. Your body is very attractive to me, but more than anything else, you are attractive to me. I love the way you laugh and the way you make me feel, and so many other things about you that mean so much more than how you look. The fact that you're so pretty feels like a bonus."

He kisses me then, sweetly and gently, but with an underlying note to it that sets me on edge. I curse that I've somehow ruined things again, that I've made him think I doubt his words. I wish I could explain that I believe that he sees the things he says he likes, but I don't see how they appeal to him. The words aren't there, though - they're trapped deep inside like they've always been, a seed of hate that spreads like poison ivy through me.

"It's simple. I don't like you despite your body, sweetheart. I like you _for_ it, and a whole host of other reasons. I need you to accept that, Bella. I can't keep going over this with you. I feel as if I'm back and forth between thinking you've accepted my words and knowing that they're trapped outside that brick wall you have built around you."

"I'm sorry," I whisper, hating that the only words I can force out are the wrong ones.

"I don't want you to be sorry!" He's undeniably agitated, his hand squeezing my hip so tight it's nearly uncomfortable. "I want you to give this a goddamn chance, Bella."

"I have! I've come here tonight and-"

"And yet again, you've put me up against these demons of yours that I can't see. They're invisible to everyone but you, and it's like walking through a minefield, not knowing what will set you off."

His words hurt, but only because they're portraying exactly what I feared would happen. I'm stumbling across a fine line that feels more like a mountain's edge when spending time with Edward, wanting to get reassurance from him but feeling terrible for needing it. I use his words like padding to cushion the hard edges of worthlessness, and there's a knot of nausea in my stomach telling me it isn't fair to either of us.

_Stop it. Stop stop stop._

* * *

**Oh, Bella *sigh***

**Thank you for reading.**


	12. Chapter 12

**I'm so pleased so many of you were understanding of Bella in your reviews for the last chapter. Thank you.**

**Thank you to Astro, Fiya and Geeky, as always. **

* * *

"Let me walk you home," Edward says quietly, my silence seemingly deflating his frustration.

"I don't want the date to be over," I reply just as softly, my words somewhere between a plea and an apology.

He brings a hand to my face, brushing wayward strands of hair back from my forehead. He leans forward to press a kiss just above my eyebrow, and when he steps back to speak his lips shake. "I think the date was over a little while ago, sweetheart."

I've always thought of myself as broken, but Edward's words make me realise that it was more like hairline fractures that splintered and split gradually over time. His words, or rather the fear that they induce inside me, feel like the final smash at the base of the crack that causes all the pieces to scatter. He turns away from me and begins to move forward slowly, and I have no choice to but to follow no matter how wrong it feels. Jolts of hurt spike through me as Edward's hand grazes my own, my fingers aching to map the lines of his palm and entwine with his.

I slip my arm closer to him, letting my pinky brush against the rough skin on the outside of his hand. He moves his little finger out too, curling it around mine so only a single point of contact connects us.

We walk silently back to my apartment, fingers still linked as we make our way down the street.

When we reach my door, Edward wraps me up in his cold arms so tight that I can barely breathe. He kisses my forehead and then my hair, bringing his lips to rest near my ear. The plastic frame of his glasses pushes into my temple, and I let the slight pinch centre me, fearing I'll drift away without something to anchor me through Edward's next words.

"You need to choose, sweet girl. You have to decide whether trusting me is more important than living in this safe little bubble of yours, which is making you miserable anyway."

I suck in a deep breath, his words like a physical punch. He strokes a thumb across the base of my back. "It's just hard to believe things when I've spent a lifetime hearing the opposite."

"You're not the only one who's ever been made fun of. I just choose to trust you're spending time with me because you like me and because you see a side of me that maybe I can't."

"You make it sound so easy," I say, bitter and sad and hurting.

"I'm not saying it's easy, but it shouldn't be as hard as you're finding it, either. I'm not trying to hurt you Bella, but I'm lost. I need you to meet me halfway, or just somewhere other than on the safe side of the lines you've drawn between us."

I nod into his shoulder, surprised by the tears I feel wetting the fabric.

"You need to pick between giving us a shot or letting it go." His voice wavers toward the end and his arms grow tighter around me, and this time it's Edward that inhales sharply.

He drops his arms after a few minutes, kissing my forehead one more time before he steps back and moves toward the stairwell.

"You forgot your shirt," I say, grasping for something to stop him.

When Edward turns, his eyes are bright green with tears.

"Keep it. I'm hoping that you'll choose me and return it sometime soon."

Then he's gone, nothing more than the echo of footsteps and a gaping hole in my chest to ever show he was there at all.

I walk through the door of my apartment and collapse in the hallway, sobbing out what feels like years of the hurt that comes with wishing you could be more than you are.

_What have I done? _

* * *

**Keep the faith.**

**Superhero In The Stacks is up for Fic of the Week over at The Lemonade Stand, which I've been flailing about since I found out! I'd love it if you would check out the poll and maybe vote for it :)**

**Thank you for reading.**


	13. Chapter 13

**Hi! I hope you've all had a good weekend. I'm still falling behind on the review replies, but replying to the ones for this chapter is going to be my priority. Know that even if I don't reply, I read them all and smile. Your support is overwhelming.**

**Thanks to my girls.**

* * *

Eventually, I stumble to the bathroom, intending to take a shower. I catch sight of myself in the small mirror above the sink as I begin to get undressed. The image reflected back at me is uglier than ever, but for once it has nothing to do with the way I look. Edward's sad expression before he walked away is a ghost that haunts my mind, his hurt becoming mine as I replay the date we shared tonight.

It feels silly to be in so deep after one date, but when you're given sweet the way Edward gives it, you don't let it go. And I think I have.

My fingernails dig into my palms, and I tell my hands they're grasping and clinging about an hour too late. He's gone, I tell myself, he's gone now. Except being alone doesn't feel safe like it used to. It just feels empty. As my palms curl around nothing but air, the memory of a warm hand against my own compounds that emptiness into a cavern; another pocket for hate to infect.

But I think that infection has spread far enough, and instead I let words like 'perfect' and 'pretty', spoken by an earnest, soft-eyed boy fill that gap instead. And then I remove my clothes slowly, refusing to let the wince that curls my lip take over my face.

I am made strong by the beauty of the words whispering through my head, made brave by the beauty of smiles carved out just for me. Once I'm naked, the halogen bulb shows dimpled and creased skin in stark definition, no shadows to hide behind. Nothing about my body has changed - there are still lumps and dips and rolls, flesh and more flesh and too much, but for some reason, my nasty words are beaten out by Edward's beautiful ones.

And I'm not stupid enough to believe that his attraction to me is some kind of cure, but there's an undeniable desire to stand straighter knowing that I'm not as repulsive as I feel some days. Then I realize that before Edward,'some days' would have been 'most days', and that before coming to college and being free of the bullies of high school, it would have been 'every day'. As I let my hands touch my body in places they never do outside of a shower, I make a conscious effort to be positive.

I still grimace when I feel my love handles, but this time I appreciate how soft the skin stretching across my hips is. I still blow out a harsh breath when I let my fingers trail across the moonlight-silver stretch marks painted across my cleavage, but this time I rationalize that they're a worthy trade for my nicely-shaped breasts.

It's liberating, this feeling that I'm allowed to be nice to myself, that I don't have to curse myself for not fitting into a norm or a dress size. Except then I wonder what made me think I _did_ have to, except asshole comments and high-school bitchiness. That makes me wonder why I hold the words of people whose smiles only come at the cost of others' unhappiness more sacred than the words of a boy whose smiles are only for me. And maybe Edward's being honest when he says that he doesn't see the flawed lines of my body that are seared into my retinas, because as my fingers cup and feel and slide, I feel nothing but a body. A soft one, a generous one, but nothing more or less than a body.

I'm not sure when how I looked became more important than how I thought, or even how it became all I thought about, but the epiphany that my body does not define my worth smacks into me like a high-speed freight train. I laugh aloud, shocked and stunned and head-shaking as those words mingle with incongruous ones, years old and bone-deep.

I cry, then - because I want to believe that realization. I _ache_ with how much I want to believe it, but I don't know that I can. It seems to be another of the slogans used as a platitude for 'fat' girls, and I wonder if anyone can actually internalize those words or whether they just tell themselves they have. But this dislike that's morphed into hate over the years, it won't back down without a fight. I let tears drip from my jaw onto my too-soft chest, knowing any sweet Edward gives will be tampered with by the sharp acid sting of my own sour thoughts.

I consider my options as I stand in front of the sink, staring at myself fully naked for what must be the first time in years. Usually I catch sight of my body as I'm making my way into the shower, and even then it's only a stolen glimpse that makes my stomach turn. I can either continue the way I'm acting now, which isn't an option at all, really, seeing as it impacts on my life so much. Or I can attempt to do something about it, and that's when I start to think about my friend Alice's suggestion that I see a professional.

The thought of seeing a therapist makes me cringe, especially knowing I'll have to talk about something as trivial as the fact I think I'm fat. Except that thinking I'm fat isn't such a trivial thing for me at all, and it isn't normal to be so obsessed with how you look that it bleeds into everything else and muddies it. This realization is more scary than the self-worth epiphany by far, because without my bubble to keep me safe, I'm not sure what I'll have.

As soon as that thought enters my head, so do images of happy green eyes behind thick-framed glasses, of wild brown hair and a boy who wears his heart on his sleeve. That's when I know that without my bubble, I may well have _everything_.

When I think of Edward, I think of superhero shirts and the faint smell of old books, of good morning texts that are the best part of my day and the thing he does when his tongue is inside my mouth. Even his things that should be imperfections - the slight crooked tilt to his front teeth or the small hint of a belly when he sits down - are perfect, because they're just Edward.

To him, I'm Bella.

Just Bella.

I step out of the wrinkled dress pooled at my feet and rush back into my bedroom, throwing on the first jeans I see, internally fistpumping in victory when I only stop for a second to think if they're ones that confine the expanse of my ass.

Baby steps indeed.

I put on a shirt I bought a while ago that I know Edward will appreciate, the yellow background of the logo a perfect contrast to the black silhouetted wings adorning it. I begin to button up Edward's shirt. It's tight and the buttons won't meet across the bust, but it smells like him, and it's touched parts of him I've only dreamed about, so I can overlook that.

I shove my feet into the first pair of shoes I see, not even caring whether they'll make my legs look dumpy. I race to the door, suddenly frantic as I snatch up my clutch bag and transfer the essentials to my pockets, making me glad I picked up my parachute jeans after all.

And then I'm running and stumbling down apartment building stairs, out a front door and onto the street that will take me where I need to be.

With Edward.

_I have some apologizing to do. Preferably with my lips on his._

* * *

**She's going after her man! **

**As you may have seen yesterday, Superhero In The Stacks is up for Fic of the Week over at The Lemonade Stand! I'd love it if you would check out the poll and maybe vote for it :)**

**Thank you for reading.**


	14. Chapter 14

**Hopefully this will get rid of this Monday feeling :)**

**Thanks to my girls.**

* * *

Edward's face is hopeful but wary when he opens his door and sees my feet firmly planted on his welcome mat, my stance more confident than he's probably ever seen it. That alone is enough to make him smile, because as always, he _knows. _Then he sees that I'm wearing his button-down, and after that he realizes I'm wearing a Batman shirt, and suddenly his crooked fingers are under my chin and tilting my face up toward his.

His eyes search my face and I'm so open, no shutters or hide-behinds. Nothing but me.

"You get it," he whispers, his eyes flickering between mine.

"I get it."

I kiss him as soon as I'm finished speaking, and he's kind enough to ignore the wetness that leaks from my eyes and gets trapped between our cheeks.

"I can't promise I'll be magically better." My hands rest on his chest as his rest low on the small of my back, and I'm so giddy I can barely remember what I'm going to say. "But I'm going to try. Really try."

He sighs with something that sounds like relief, his forehead coming to rest on mine. "That's all I want. Because the girl you are without those walls is amazing."

"I'm going to try and see somebody about how I feel," I say tentatively, so quiet he wouldn't hear if he wasn't so close. "I need more help that I can give myself."

"That's brave, sweetheart."

"It is?" I ask, relieved.

"Definitely. I think it will help you, Bella."

I look at his eyes, so earnest and fixed on mine. My body slumps into his in relief and what feels like liberation. I've spent so long trapped inside myself I'd forgotten how it was to really feel, but Edward gives me no option other than to feel everything.

As he drops small kisses along my nose, my cheeks, even my swollen eyelids, I grip his shirt tighter.

"Thank you," I say quietly, because I have to.

"For what?" he asks.

"For everything." And even though my words are corny and a little too movie-romance not to be embarrassing, he just kisses harder.

"We done with the serious now?"

I giggle and nod, and then I'm the one sighing as his arms come around me tight. As he pulls back to press one last kiss to my forehead, I give my last wall its demolition notice.

"Uh… do you think I could come in?" I ask awkwardly, because as much as I love cuddling Edward, a hallway is not my preferred place to do it.

"Oh, uh, of course!" he says, inexplicably flushing. "Er, so, I should warn you that**—**"

"Holy crap on a cracker!" I say as soon as I step over the threshold, my eyes bulging at the sight of Edward's apartment. Each of the walls of his living room is covered in superhero movie posters or cool vintage-looking canvases. I even spot a profile shot of Heath Ledger as The Joker - in sepia, and with what appears to be several Instagram filters obscuring it. I try to ignore the fact that it's framed, but I laugh before I can help it.

I stop as soon as I catch sight of Edward's face. He's unsure and uncomfortable, palming the back of his neck the way he does when he doesn't know what else to do.

"I love it," I tell him honestly.

"You do?" he asks, his voice tentative and more than a little doubtful. He's doing that thing where he shifts from foot to foot again too, another sign of discomfort.

"I really do," I say. "It's you."

I can tell the moment he gets it because his eyes melt into that softness.

"Bella," he whispers.

Nothing else, but his tone says it all.

"I'm sorry about tonight. Truly sorry," I tell him, because I am, and I don't think I can say it enough, even if we're meant to be done with the serious business. Being here, seeing Edward's apartment, just reminds me of what I came so close to giving up."It wasn't long after you left that I realized what a mistake I made."

"Don't be sorry," he says. "My night's looking up." He's back to giving me that sweetness. "And anyway, this way I got you to come home with me."

Edward's cheeks are blazing bright red as his words sit in the air between us. I stare at him, and he stares back, the corner of his lip sucked into his mouth.

"Yeah, you did," I say quietly, feeling a new tension all around us.

He looks away then, his eyes drifting down to my shirt. "You, wearing that shirt and sitting in this room…" he trails off, clearing his throat and adjusting his glasses.

Now I'm the one blushing, because I can guess the effect it's having. The shirt's not too clingy, but it's form-fitting, and the logo is placed directly across my chest, right where Edward's eyes are currently trained.

"Making things hard for you?" I ask him, throwing his words from outside the restaurant back to him.

His stare shoots back up to mine, even more of his lip disappearing inside of his mouth. Then he laughs, wide and brilliant and beautiful. His laugh is enough to spark mine, and soon we're giggling and blushing and looking at one another in the low lighting provided by his Iron Man lamp.

When our final chuckles die down, Edward moves to sit on the couch beside me. He skims the backs of his fingers down my cheek, his touch gentle enough to show me I'm precious. Then he tucks my hair behind my ear in a way that should make me roll my eyes, but it doesn't - because he's Edward and because his mouth follows his fingers toward my ear.

His breath is hot against the sensitive skin of my neck as he presses his face into mine so our temples touch. "You want to stay the night?"

I swallow hard, suddenly hyper-aware of his proximity. That old book smell mixed with the faint spice of cologne floats in the air until I feel drunk off it, and I'm too busy trying to remember to breathe to give an answer.

"Just to sleep," he clarifies softly. "I just want to hold you."

I'm not sure whether I'm relieved or disappointed, but I nod anyway. Edward seals the agreement by kissing the skin on the side of my throat, one hand coming up to tangle in my hair as he lets his tongue slide across the goosebumps on my neck.

As incoherent as his touches and kisses make me, I know one thing for sure.

_Library Boy definitely does not have just sleeping in mind._

* * *

***fans self* **

**I know you've all seen it by now, but just in case: Superhero In The Stacks is up for Fic of the Week over at The Lemonade Stand! I'd love it if you would check out the poll and maybe vote for it :)  
**

**Also, Sophiacorgi, whose birthday this fic was originally written for, has just started posting her first story on FFn. It's called Droplets and can be found under my favourites. It would mean a lot if you'd check it out and welcome her into the world of posting!**

**Thank you for reading!**


	15. Chapter 15

**Hi ladies! Thank you for all the reviews last chapter. I think my favourite had to be meli-mello with: "Sleeping" is a euphemism for "come and check out the action figure collection in my bedroom" right? They have movable parts that grow when you play with them!' **

**Thank you to my girls, always.**

* * *

Edward's stubble scrapes across my collarbone as he lays wet, open-mouthed kisses on my neck, teasing it with the tip of his tongue. I shiver as I touch him, everywhere and anywhere. I caress his spine, squeeze his waist, let my hands wrap around his biceps, and all the while he loves me with his mouth, hard sucks and soft lips against my skin. He moans like he's enjoying it, enjoying _me_, and that gives me the courage to let my hands trail down to cup his ass. That turns his moan into a grunt and a long swipe of his tongue across my jaw.

He stands up unexpectedly a second later. I worry I've done something wrong, but then his hand is on mine, pulling me up from the couch to stand beside him, and then it's pulling me into a room at the end of the hall.

Edward's bedroom is a complete contrast to his living room, a transition from geeky teen to seductive man. His bed is covered in dark sheets, and that's what he pushes me down onto as soon as I get near.

"God, I dreamed about how you'd look against these sheets," he rasps, sounding breathless. He unbuttons the shirt he's given me, peeling it back from my body until I have no choice but to sit up and remove it. Only my arms are exposed, but Edward curses like I'm naked.

He goes straight for my mouth then, and I learn a whole new side to Edward's kisses. He keeps his hands gentle as they touch me, but his mouth goes from soft nips to rough bites and back again. He licks the corners of my mouth, presses teeth into my bottom lip, works my mouth over until I can barely breathe.

And he does all this while running his hands up and down my arms lightly. I know he's trying to warm me up to his touch, make it so I'm less nervous when he touches me in other places.

It's working.

His palm rests fully against my breast, making me gasp, and that's when he slides his tongue against mine. He claims my mouth while his hand massages my breast, sliding down so his thumb can run across my hard nipple.

"You want me?" he asks, sounding desperate.

"So much," I answer, and I'm barely finished before he's tugging on the hem of my top. I take a deep breath and a leap of faith, letting him take it off until I'm just in my bra. I realize then that he didn't turn the light on deliberately, because he knew I'd prefer it off.

I kiss him anywhere I can reach as he peels off his own t-shirt, feeling warm skin and lightly-defined muscle that makes me curse that I can't see him. I focus on learning his body with my mouth and my hands instead of my eyes.

At the first scrape of Edward's fingertips against my stomach, I startle. He freezes but doesn't break contact, fanning his fingers wide and letting me have my moment. His kisses are softer then, peppering them across my forehead as he waits.

"You're beautiful," he whispers in the darkness of the room. As he lays me back down so his kisses can move to my breast, I feel it.

Eventually his kisses move down the soft roundness of my stomach, and it's a fight not to tense when he undoes the button on my jeans. He turns his head to the side and rests it on my belly once he feels how stiff I am.

"Are you scared by what's about to happen? Or just feeling self-conscious?"

I sigh as I bring my hands down to tangle in his messy hair, wishing my insecurities weren't so intrusive.

""Um...both?"

He hums, acknowledging what I've said. "I'm scared too."

My hands freeze. "What?"

"I'm not exactly built, Bella. I'm thin and kind of gangly, and I have this little belly when-"

"I don't care about that," I tell him, honestly. "I love how you feel."

I can feel his smile against my hipbone. "Exactly."

It takes me a few seconds to work out what he means, but when I do, I'm smiling too.

_Oh, he's good._

* * *

**Yes, I did just stop it there.**

**Last reminder: Superhero In The Stacks is up for Fic of the Week over at The Lemonade Stand! I'd love it if you would check out the poll and maybe vote for it :)**

**See you back in Library Boy's bedroom tomorrow! Thanks for reading.**


	16. Chapter 16

**Thank you to Geeky, Astro and Fiya.**

* * *

Library Boy has a dirty mouth. It's also one that makes me see heaven, something I learn when he gets my jeans off and spreads my thighs wide. He licks and sucks and makes noises like he's the one being pleasured, the deep tone of his grunts sending tremors through my thighs.

"Tell me what you need," he pleads, as if making me come is his only wish. He follows my suggestions exactly, rubbing harder and thrusting his fingers faster until I'm there. Then he brings his body from its crouched position to lay over mine, kissing me hard as he rubs his thumb across my clit.

When I come, it's with Edward swallowing my moans and whimpers, only breaking the kiss to tell me how stunning, gorgeous, amazing, pretty I am. My orgasm is intense and seemingly endless. Even when it melts into afterglow, Edward's tender touches make me still feel the high. I'm warm all over, love-flushed as my body fits itself to the length of his. He's firm and hard in all the places I'm not, but his moan when I wrap my arms and legs around him makes that feel like the best thing.

Our kisses are slower now, less desperate as I trace a lazy path across his spine with my hand. We're chest to chest, his erection digging into my thigh as he moves himself gently against me. The rough rub of denim against my oversensitive skin is verging on too much stimulation, so I do the only logical thing.

"Take your jeans off," I tell him, my lips still pressed against his.

He stops moving completely, eyes opening and staring straight into mine. "It's not too fast?"

I shake my head, swallowing down the lump in my throat. "I've been waiting for you forever."

His eyes grow glassy as they stay locked onto mine. He lightly pecks my lips before shifting to the edge of the bed and stripping down to just his boxers.

"Oh, _fuck_," Edward curses, and I feel him tugging the comforter toward him.

"What?"

"Uh, nothing. One second." He stands and shifts uncomfortably, trying to conceal what's below his navel with the duvet, but I see it.

I have to bite my lip to stop laughing, because really, who even knew they made Minion boxers? Edward's erection tents them awkwardly, one of the little yellow faces stretched across the broad head of his dick.

And that's when I lose my battle with the giggles.

Edward laughs too, even though I have no doubt he's blushing like crazy. "I didn't know you'd be coming over!"

"Minion boxers? Really?" I say through wheezes.

"It's not that funny," he grumbles, but I can hear the humor behind it.

Eventually my chuckles taper off, and he pushes the boxers down his hips slowly. The mood shifts then, his bent body hiding what lies between his thighs from me. When he stands up, his cock bobs toward his stomach. Even half-concealed by the dark, it's enough to make me press my legs together.

"Besides," he says as he climbs back into the bed. "I had a reason for the minions."

I snort. "Oh really?"

"Yeah," he says, quieter now, like he's shy. I grasp his hand with mine. "The first time I spoke to you, I was wearing a minion shirt. The first time you agreed to go out with me, I was wearing that shirt too. It didn't look right under my shirt tonight, but I wanted to wear something with minions on. It sounds silly, but-"

"No, Edward. It's not silly. It's… you."

"Me?"

"You, baby," I say softly, and his sigh afterward is so content it gives me butterflies. "You're so sweet."

He rolls his body on top of mine, kissing the corner of my mouth when he's settled.

"Want that sweetness inside me," I whisper.

He doesn't ask if I'm sure this time, just nods and brings his hand back between my thighs to make sure I'm ready. A minute or two later, he sits up on his knees and grabs a condom from the bedside table. He rolls it on and drops back down to kiss my collarbone, my shoulders, anywhere his lips can reach. His hand snakes back over to the side and the room is lit by the muted yellow of his lamp.

I blink rapidly, but not because of the light. My chest gets tight as I imagine what Edward's seeing.

"Please turn it off," I ask.

"I thought you knew how I felt about you."

"I do, Edward, and that's why I want the light off," I reply, my voice strained. "No one's ever looked at me the way you do, and I don't want that to go away."

He strokes my hair with one hand, caresses my shoulder with the other. "That won't ever go away, sweetheart. Let me love you."

I'm terrified, but I'm not willing to break the promise I made to Edward that I'd give us a shot. So I nod, ignoring the way my hands shake and my heart races.

His hands brush feather-soft across my skin, the heat of his palm scorching me. "So gorgeous." And then he aligns himself against me, bringing his eyes up to meet mine. "You gave my world color."

As he pushes inside me for the first time, I've never felt so loved.

Tears trickle down my temples and into my hair as I savor how he feels, every part of our bodies touching. We're connected in all the ways you can be connected to another person, and it wouldn't surprise me if we've invented a few more too.

"Good tears?"

I nod into his neck, overwhelmed by everything.

Our rhythm is stilted at first, but quickly we begin to move in sync. Edward whispers pretty words about a pretty girl in my ear the whole time, only pausing when I kiss him. He moves slowly at first, grinding and circling his hips until I'm begging him to move faster. Even when he's fucking me hard, his voice is tender.

He lifts up at one point to hitch my leg over his hip, the change in angle meaning he hits me deeper, better.

That's when I learn that I may not like my body, but I like the way it looks wrapped around Edward. I especially like the things it makes him say, like the "Jesus, _fuck_," he gives when I arch my back and push my breasts toward him. And if I can make this sexy, sweet boy say words like that, then I'll keep the lights on every time.

"You're perfect," he says, rough and gritty. "So fucking perfect, so sweet. My girl was made for me."

I latch onto him so tightly I barely know where I end and he begins. All that I am, all that I have is his anyway, especially when my head is filled with sentences spoken with nothing but adoration.

"Wanted you for so long, sweetheart. Having you here is a dream."

When he brings one hand to capture mine, threading his fingers through my own, my world turns upside down and inside out. He gives me these things, this love, so freely, and I revel in feeling safe enough to do the same. So I squeeze his hand and open my legs wider, taking him deeper inside me.

The thick head of Edward's cock drags against a spot that makes me squirm, and I moan for him to do it again. He grunts and thrusts faster, the friction he gives me enough to get me so close.

"Fingers," I whimper, begging him.

He licks two before bringing them down to press against my clit, still slamming his hips hard into my thighs. He's pushing into me so hard it feels like he's about to fuck me through the mattress. Then the heat that's building in my stomach spreads outward and I'm coming, moaning Edward's name and wrapping myself around him tight. His thrusts grow jerky then, groaning and grunting and growling my name as he rams into me one last time.

"Never gonna let you go," he pants. My heart seems to swell in my chest, full of so much love.

We're silent for minutes afterward, both breathless as we come down. I rest my flushed face on Edward's firm chest, loving being able to look at him in the light.

"It was good?" he asks. I look up, wondering if he's serious, but he's staring resolutely at the ceiling.

I move up so my face is in front of his, giving him no choice but to look at me.

And when he does, I whisper, "The best, baby."

He smiles, then - so wide that I feel the happiness radiating from it all around me.

_Trusting him is the best decision you've ever made._

* * *

**Oh Library Boy. Just when we thought you couldn't get any more swoon-worthy. **

**A quick reminder that you should be reading Rescission by GeekChic12 and My Love, My Sin by SulliedSoles. Both are fantastic stories which update frequently (yay!).**

**Thank you for reading!**


	17. Chapter 17

**Hi! I'm so glad so many of you liked the last chapter. Library Boy has game. Shout out to Connachtpa, who said 'Superhero In The Sack' might be a better title now.**

**Thanks to Astro, Fiya and Geeky. They make this better.**

* * *

I wake up just as the sun is rising, wearing nothing but Edward's freckled arm draped across me. I watch the early morning go from dusky black to persimmon, comparing its shift across the sky to the shift inside me. Dawn breaks, raspberry-pink and daisy-yellow kissing the morning light, but Edward's sleepy smile eclipses it.

"I'm falling in love with you," I tell him quietly as the first ray of sunshine peeks through the curtains, his face glowing from more than just the rays. I wait for the panic that never comes, my limbs relaxed as they tangle with his. He rolls on top of me, reaching over to grab his glasses from the nightstand.

I know my hair is probably a mess, and I dread to think of what leftover mascara has done to my eyes, but somehow I can't bring myself to care. Edward says he likes me just the way I am. That means no makeup some days, and especially before 9am. The way he leans down to gently nuzzle my nose with his tells me he doesn't mind that at all.

"Say it again."

"Library Boy," I warn, because I might not be panicking, but there's a limit.

"I want to watch those words form on those pretty lips. I want to see them in your eyes before they even come out of your mouth. I want to see the smile you can't hold back once they're said. And mostly, I want to see your face when I say it back."

"Oh," I whisper, swallowing. "Okay." And then, "I'm falling in love with you."

He doesn't get to see my smile after all, because his lips are on mine as soon as I'm finished, breathing in those words and taking them deep. He kisses me with something close to gratitude, his movements reverent as he brings a hand up to cup my cheek.

"Are you my girl now?" he asks as he pulls away, though not too far.

"You seemed to think so last night."

He blushes pinker than the sky did this morning, his cheeks flushing even as he smirks. "Shut up. You loved my mouth," he retorts, causing me to blush too, because he's not wrong.

"I'm your girl," I say, trying to play it cool and hide the squealing excitement coursing through me. "Does that mean I get to be your Lois?"

He snorts, head shaking and body trembling with laughter like I was joking. "Lois doesn't have a thing on you, Bella."

His words are silly, but the way they make me soar isn't. He gifts me with these words that build up inside me and give me the strength to fly, to blossom, to _be._

"You didn't say it back," I tell him quietly. I'm not worried that he doesn't feel it - I have no doubt there's a space carved in his heart with my name on it - but I want the words.

"I can't say it back, sweetheart," he says, pressing a single kiss to the corner of my mouth. For a single world-stopping, heartbreaking second, I'm made breathless by the shock of his words.

But Edward doesn't let that linger long before he makes me lose my breath in another way, one that's so much better.

"I'm already in love with you."

He shows me minutes later, kissing his way across my body in the half-light of the morning. And through it all, he shines brighter than the sunrise ever could.

_I deserve love. I deserve happiness. I deserve him._

* * *

**Happy.**

**I've begun to post my Twilight 25 flashes under the title 'Snapshots'. The story can be found on my profile. I hope you'll check them out!**

**Thank you for reading.**


	18. Chapter 18

The early evening breeze swirls around my bare calves as I walk up the steps to the library building. I reach the glass doors just as the sun shines behind me, but now I see nothing except my silhouette and the reflection of white teeth exposed by a wide smile. I walk through the lobby of the library, the low heels of my shoes clicking against the tile flooring. Heads turn, eyes take stock, and I hold my head high through it all. Edward isn't beside me, but his love is like armor that surrounds me at all times. It's a buffer for the less than nice words, whether they're coming from me or from someone else.

I walk up to the counter, missing the sight of my messy-haired Library Boy behind the desk. Instead there's Jasper, one of the other guys who works at the library, smirking at me and leaning forward to survey my outfit. He lets out a low whistle as he takes me in from top to toe, my cheeks pinking even though I know he's harmless.

"Oh, shut up," I say, rolling my eyes. "Where's my man?"

"Oh, he'll love that one. He's waiting for you on the third floor, by the Biology texts."

I stare at Jasper's still-present smirk, feeling my eyes narrow. "He's waiting for me by some shelves? But he messaged me asking me to meet him here."

"Yes, and he told me to let you know where to meet him. He also told me not to check you out, but seeing as that one was never gonna happen, I figure I should fulfill the first," he says, winking.

I try to hide my giggle as I walk off, though Jasper's shout of "I saw that smile, Swan!" makes me realize I haven't been too successful.

I take the elevator up to the third floor, not taking chances with the stairs in any type of heel. I exit when the doors open, my head down as I fiddle with my purse. I notice that it's strangely dark, and then I look up to see my Library Boy, surrounded by burning candles and holding purple tulips.

He's wearing grey slacks and a black button-down with the sleeves rolled up, strangely reminiscent of our first date. He looks beautiful in the low-lighting, like some sort of hazy dream.

"Are you trying to set the library on fire?" I ask, staring at the candles surrounding us.

His lips twitch slightly, but he just gives a shake of his head as he beckons me closer. "You look beautiful."

There was a time these words would have made me shrivel inside, but now they make me float. "Thank you," I say, not even trying to fight the butterflies in my stomach. "Someone told me to dress pretty."

"Silly man. Does he not know you could never look anything less than gorgeous?"

Two years since I met this boy, and he still surprises me with his sweetness. I open my mouth to reply, but Edward speaks before I have the chance.

"I first told you how I felt about you standing right here."

I blink, taken off-guard by his words, and then I look around. The lighting throws me at first, but slowly I begin to remember, and then I'm blinking back tears.

"Baby," I say, because this man makes my heart beat so fast I can't think straight.

"I told you that if you gave me a chance, we'd be something amazing. You've proven me right every day since then. The love you give me is nothing short of spectacular, Bella. I never knew what happiness was until I met you."

I wipe away a tear that rolls down my cheek, stepping forward so I can touch Edward.

"My life was so dark before you," I whisper, but the quiver of his lip tells me he hears. "You've brought me into the light."

I'm within touching distance when he drops to one knee, bringing a white box from his pocket and opening the lid with shaking fingers. He turns the ring around for me to see, but the only thing I want to look at right now is him.

"I barely even know where to begin. I've thought of a million things to say, but none of them seemed worthy of you, of the task of asking you to be my wife. So I'm going to speak whatever comes into my head and hope to God it's enough."

He smiles at me shakily, as if there was ever a chance I could be in front of him like this and say no.

"I think we both know I love superheroes, but I've never known bravery like yours. You've had to work to be happy, and that you find the will to fight for it inspires me every day. I'm never prouder than when I see you walking with your head held high, because I know how many times you've stumbled to make it happen."

There's no fighting the tears that slip from my eyes now. "It's you," I tell him. "It's you that makes me strong."

"It's us, Bella. It's what's between us, what will always be there. I can't promise you that I'll be able to keep that smile on your face, but you should know that I will always try. Nothing means more to me than you; nothing will ever be more important than my love for you. Your happiness is mine, Bella, and I want to give you those smiles for decades to come. I want to let you breathe easy, knowing someone else is fighting hard to give you that. I want to give you bliss, baby." And here he stops, swallows, clears his throat. "Pure bliss, every day of your life. And when times get hard, I want you to know you're never alone. You will never be alone, not ever again. I will always be here."

Edward extends one hand up to me, curling it around mine, anchoring me like he always does.

"I will be your shelter. I will be your safe harbor. You let down those walls for me, sweetheart, and you showed me the beauty inside you, and I won't ever let that gift go. So I ask that you keep giving me that love, that beauty, and I'll give you my last name. I'll give you all of me, Bella. A love like ours won't ever end. It can't. I want to hear my name in your heartbeat, see your smile on our children's faces. I want to kiss those lips every day until my last. Marry me."

I nod frantically, too busy laughing and crying and babbling to respond with the word, but Edward scoops me up and spins me like I've shouted it. He brings his lips to mine, our tears making it all the more tender. He takes the ring from its box, and I sigh as I see the diamond glittering in the candlelight. But then I see the inscription, '_I have named you queen_' etched on the inside, and knowing that he chose the beginning of that poem to sit against my finger means more than the stone.

I let Edward slide it on my finger, already picturing him doing the same with the second ring to tie us together officially. I wrap my arms around him then, so tight I doubt he can breathe, but he squeezes back just as tight. I rest my head on his shoulder, reveling in the joy he's given me.

"I knew wearing the Minion boxers tonight would pay off," he whispers. I can't hold back the belly laugh that bubbles up, because no matter how old we get, he'll always be my Library Boy. We giggle and kiss in the semi-darkness, surrounded by enough love to last a hundred lifetimes.

_Blessed. My life is blessed._

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**And that's the end of Superhero in the Stacks. I know it may seem abrupt, but this story was always about finding someone who loves you even if you don't love yourself. Bella's found that.**

**The engagement ring engraving is a line from The Queen by Pablo Neruda.**

**Thank you to Astro, Fiya, Geeky, Sophiacorgi and also to my WC girls. They supported me, encouraged me and held my hand, and I love them for it. **

**Thank you to all who pimped, rec'd or reviewed this story. Your support has made me so happy.**

**Lastly, always remember that you are so much more than a number on a scale. No dress size can ever reflect all that you are. Your body does not define you, and you shouldn't let it restrict or own you. There's beauty in all of us, and know that even when you struggle to see that, someone else does.**

**Thank you for reading. xoxo**


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